


schiamatchy

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: “You need to take a deep breath.”Ten x Rose, missing scene set just beforeArmy of Ghosts/Doomsday.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	schiamatchy

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: “You need to take a deep breath.”

She’d been enjoying this for half an hour or so now, the feel of his slender frame laced around and through hers as they lay entwined. His breathing was so calm and his hearts so steady that the only way she knew he was awake was with the caress of his fingers lightly tracing patterns she knew only through repetition across her shoulder. She hadn’t opened her eyes and she didn’t want to, and she guessed neither did he.

She often woke like this these days. Being interwoven with him in some way. They always fell asleep so, and she’d long since stopped being surprised to find they still were when she woke up. A different position, maybe, a new two-pieced jigsaw puzzle, but it had become evident that they move in response to the other when they slept, that they always subconsciously found a way to stay together even if they couldn’t always be promised that when they were awake. Sometimes, well, mostly, he was awake before she was, and it still made her heart skip to know he’d woken up and kept a hold of her. Sometimes they’d bump into each other as one of them was turning and wake together at the same time. Whenever she’d wake first, she’d only wait until she was certain he was still sleeping before she dared herself to stroke his face, to lightly press the pads of her fingers across his freckles. She was always sweetly comforted knowing that he let her, that at some point he’d let down his guard and allowed himself to be cared for. Well, it was more than that. He’d allowed her and _only_ her to care for him. 

Things were changing. She could almost pinpoint the exact moment he’d decided he needed her too much to hold back anymore. Soon after the events on Krop Tor, she thought she’d even heard his sigh of resignation as he pulled her into him as tightly as he could hold and she hadn’t felt him let go since. He’d started pressing his lips to her forehead when she’d sleepily wander over to him in the kitchen in the mornings. He’d started taking her hand more when they were simply walking together, like strolling through a night market or along a canal. Just absentminded little things, like twirling her hair through his fingers when they watched a film, or brushing his thumb against hers when he’d hold her hand, or stroking her cheek when she’d start falling asleep on his chest. It was beautiful, it was right, it was safe. But it was terrifying. 

Because in those morning kisses was fear. She’d feel the smile on his lips as they touched her skin but she’d also feel it drop the moment she’d bury her face in his chest. Most of the time he took her hand now for no other reason than because he could, because soon he might not be able to. The fiddling of her hair and stroking her cheek was this physical _need_ for her, to keep her close, to be able to look back at their time together and know that there wasn’t a moment that passed he was without her because, sooner or later, he’s going to be without her for an awfully long time.

It’s not like she felt he was telling her he wanted more, that he wanted _her_ , she never got the impression that there was some ulterior motive. It was in the same way she wasn’t alluding to an advance when she’d kiss his knuckles whenever his hand took hers, or she’d lean her head on his shoulders when he played with those strands of her hair. She just wanted to be free to love him, to assure him that there was someone in this universe who adored him unconditionally. 

She felt him move next to her. Just a little, perhaps he was still waking up too, but he nuzzled himself further into the crook of her neck and she smiled. “Hello,” she whispered.

“Hello,” he mumbled his reply drowsily into her hair. His hand had since stopped drawing across her shoulder and had flopped back down outstretched onto the bed. “Is my arm still there? I don’t feel it.”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask it.” She yawned, stretching her own limbs so far she began to feel dizzy. He extracted his arm from under her as she did, giving it a little shake before rubbing his temples. 

She groaned, her eyes struggling to open and adjust to the light. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“Then I don’t think you’re doing sleep right, because that’s the opposite of the desired effect of rest.” He pulled himself up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and stretching them out, a few of his bones cracking and popping as he did. 

“Blimey, that’s a lot of creaking.”

“I’m nine hundred years old, Rose, my body’s starting to catch up to that.”

“Ouch!” she winced, running her fingers over a sore patch on her neck.

“What? What is it?”

“I don’t know, feels like a bruise or something.” She sat up a little too quickly, and he put his hand on her arm to steady her.

“Let me look.” He pushed her hair to the side to inspect her skin. “Hmm.”

He leaned in closer, gently pressing down and she yanked herself away in pain.

“- Sorry. It’s just a bruise, couple of blood blisters. Must have slept on it funny.”

“What?” Her heart dropped and she snapped her hand back to her neck, covering the bruise. “That isn’t- What is it? Is it bad? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Rose, you and I both know you bruise like a peach. Sometimes I wonder you might bruise your head if you think too hard.”

“No no, no I’d remember hurting my neck. What is it? Where did it come from?”

“It just looks like an ordinary, regular bru-“

“No, something’s not right, ‘cause it’s _not_! I haven’t done anything to my neck that would _bruise!”_

He looked at her, puzzled. “Rose, it’s _okay_!”

“No!”

She shouted so forcefully that it shocked both of them. His brow was drawn together as he looked back at her and he jolted when she leapt from the bed to point at him. She was panicking, and she couldn’t find the control within her to think about what she was saying. “Don’t you _dare!_ Don’t you dare do that with me, because you’ve been doing that to me since that bloody planet! Don’t tell me it’s ok when it’s not!”

His startled expression only grew more alarmed. But after a moment, he forced it to soften, but the concern was still there. He slowly began to stand and cautiously approach her, reaching out to her from a distance, but she backed away from him, stretching her arms in front of her to signify for him to stay where he was.

“Rose-”

There was an underlying weakness in her bones, like the blood under her skin was bubbling and starting to make her shake. “No. No! You were there! You heard it! And now there’s this mysterious bruise on my neck neither of us can explain? Weird things have been happening, Doctor. This isn’t the first time. Freaky stuff, close calls, that sorta stuff. And it said so, that _thing_! The bloody _devil_ said I was gonna die! You say you you’re not sure but I know you know it was the devil! The _bloody devil_ , Doctor! If there’s one thing that knows something bad’s gonna happen, it’s gonna be _the devil!”_

There it was. His perfected skill of maintaining posture when dread saturated his blood might have fooled anyone else except her, because she saw it. She saw his jaw clench, his expression tighten and his eyes grow just that little bit more haunted by a hidden internal anxiety. He raised his eyebrows and did his best to soften his features once more and reassure her, and she watched closely to determine just how hard it was for him to give her a comforting smile and a joke to ease her worry.

“Or, a time lord-”

“Don’t _do_ that with me! Don’t tell me you know everything’s gonna be alright, ‘cause you’d be lying! Me an’ you both know you can’t know that, not about your own personal timeline. The devil says I’m gonna die, _then I’m going to die!_ Then you say there’s a storm comin’- and _you said it_! You always say it - that you can’t know what _exactly’s_ gonna happen or even _when_ it’s gonna happen but that there’s some fixed point in time on the horizon - so you _know_ , don’t tell me you don’t know! Not when you’re lookin’ at me like that! Like you’re scared you’re gonna lose me soon, all of _this-_ this- this sleepin’ together every night and dates that are actually just turning out to be dates because you’re too afraid to look for the danger - whatever it is that made you decide to just _do_ _this_ because I’ll be gone soon, I’ll be dead soon, so don’t tell me that this bruise isn’t anything to worry about, Doctor-“

Her head was spinning and she was choking, trying to fight for air. Her hands were frantically trying to find something to hold on to and stabilise her because she could feel herself about to fall, her vision being infiltrated by darkness. She might have been screaming, she might have been crying, she couldn’t really know either way. She was spiralling, burning as she fell. 

“ - because it is. I’m _terrified._ An’ it's worse because I can see that _you’re_ terrified. You’re scaring me, Doctor. I’m so bloody _scared -_ “

He grabbed her arms just in time to steady her before her legs gave way. All she could hear was an all-consuming ringing in her ears, the thumping of her heart growing louder. She heard him whispering something to her, felt him gently pull her in closer despite her protests, encircling her with his arms and resting his chin on top of her head as she fought to release herself. It was such a firm hold, strong enough to send her waves of security and closeness but not too tight that she felt trapped. He held her there until she stilled, until she began to come back to her surroundings.

“That’s right, that’s good,” he soothed, his voice low and gentle. “You need to take a deep breath. Just breathe.”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do.” She wanted to sound angry and resistant, but instead, she mumbled it pathetically into his t-shirt. 

He might have chuckled, or he might have sighed sadly into her hair. One of his hands was still planted firmly on her back, holding her upright and steady, whilst the other had travelled upwards to hold her head close to his chest. She listened to his heartbeats, steady as always, although she had a feeling he was working that way for her right now, keeping them at a consistent rhythm to calm her. She released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and looped her arms around his waist as she relaxed into him, letting him hold her steady. He stiffened a little to accommodate the extra weight and she was almost angry at his rib cage from barricading her any further, from stopping her from getting any closer to him. They stayed that way for a few minutes, both listening to her breathing slow down to a rhythm that matched his. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

She closed her eyes to eliminate one of her senses, allowing her to focus more on his touch. The way his fingers grazed the back of her neck through her hair, the way his other hand was pressed against her spine in the middle of her back. She let his repetitive motions calm her even further until she felt so safe she could cry. But that would be silly, so she squeezed him tighter to stop herself. 

“Goodness, I try and open up a little for her and she takes that to mean she must be about to die.”

She smiled weakly. “To be fair to her, the Doctor being needy might as well mean it’s the end of the world and we’re _all_ about to die.”

“I’m not _needy,_ ” he protested, releasing her from his hold, but she pulled him back in tighter until his arms somewhat hesitantly enveloped her once more. “I need _you_ , there’s a difference.”

She could have sworn that frighteningly steady pace of his hearts stuttered for a split second, before returning back to his command.

“I’m holding you to your promise, you know," he continued, his voice quieter yet still firm. "You promised me forever, I’m not taking any less and I doubt you’ll settle for any less either.”

He never explicitly told her he wanted her to stay, she’d noticed. She knew it was his way of giving her the choice freely, to not be tied down by guilt should she ever decide to leave him. It was unbearable, the thought of ever leaving him to be all alone in this massive universe, and she felt an overwhelming wave of sadness that was too vast for her to bear right now. But she also supposed he never said anything because he still saw her as twenty years old, not knowing what she wanted from life and being swept away and governed by the thrill of adventure. He avoided giving too much away about his feelings, as he always does. So now, standing in this quiet room with their arms wrapped around each other and he’s telling her he’s holding her to her promise, that he might _actually_ be telling her out loud he wants her to stay, she closed her eyes and let that thought encompass her. He was trying, really trying, and she could tell that it was hard for him to not make a joke and ease the tension, to escape a charged moment that might lead to something he wasn’t quite prepared to address fully. So she helped him out, returning the favour. 

“You’re right. If I’m gonna tell the devil to shove it then why stop there?”

She felt him kiss the top of her hair and smile. “And _that’s_ why they call you ‘ _Rose Tyler, the Undefeated’_.”

“I didn’t know they called me that.”

He pulled away from her, wiggling his eyebrows at her and putting his thumb to his chest. “That’ll be me, telling everyone I meet. ‘ _Rose Tyler, better watch her_ ’, I say. ‘ _Good luck ousting that one_ ’.”

“Is that how you managed to convince everyone to call you ‘ _the oncoming storm_ ’ when really you’re a bit more of a light spring breeze?”

“ _Don’t_ tell anyone about that.” He wagged a finger at her.

“Thank you.” 

“S’alright, I trust you with my secrets.”

“No,” she laughed. “I mean for, y’know, just then.”

“Oh.” He sniffed, turning to pick out a tie from the pile on her chair. “Sure.” He held up two ties and showed them to her, she pointed to the left one. He swung it around the back of his neck and started measuring the ends against one another. “I’m really scaring you?” he said quietly, not drawing his gaze from his tie. 

She didn’t reply, picking up her blue jumper and fiddling with it before putting it on and zipping it halfway up.

He finished fastening his tie and grabbed his suit jacket. “Tell you what. Could do with a few days off. Fancy seeing the mountains of Felspoon? A few days on the crimson beaches of Meta Sigma Folio? Somewhere to recharge.”

“Sounds good.” She picked up a couple of pairs of jeans and tossed the dirty ones over to the laundry basket. “Although actually, I could do with dropping some washing off at mum’s. And I’ve got that bazoolium I still need to give her...” she started to suggest, a smile creeping up her face.

“I don’t think you heard me right, I said _crimson beaches_.”

“We could spend a couple of days back at Mum’s?”

“Sounds dreadful.”

“Alright, give me half an hour to pack my stuff and meet you back in the control room? Try and get us as close to the early 21st century as you can.”

“We need to work on your definition of ‘ _thank you_ ’,” he pointed out woefully as he headed for the door. She chuckled, throwing a pair of socks at him. 


End file.
